Blog 10: Finals Finished, Gate Closing
Flight: United Airlines UA877 | Route: San Francisco SFO → Hong Kong HKG | Aircraft: Boeing 777-300ER | Seat: 52K, Economy Window
I almost missed the flight.
Not because I was late, but because my body almost gave up somewhere between the library and the taxi stand.
The last two weeks have been a blur—papers, exams, presentations, endless coffee runs. Sleep was a theory, not a fact. Finals drained me dry.
Now I’m standing in line at Gate 9 sweaty backpack digging into my shoulders, passport clutched in one hand, boarding pass wrinkled in the other. I can barely keep my eyes open.
But my heart—my heart is wide awake.
Because I’m going home.
They call boarding for United Airlines UA877, and suddenly the exhaustion doesn’t matter.
I shuffle down the jet bridge, feeling lighter and heavier at the same time.
Home.
The word tastes almost strange in my mouth now.
How long has it been?
One year? Maybe more.
One Mid-Autumn Festival missed.
One Chinese New Year celebrated over Zoom, frozen screens and pixelated dumplings.
One birthday with a microwaved cupcake and a blurry call from my parents saying, “We miss you so much.”
And I missed them too. Every day.
But I had essays to write.
I had finals to pass.
I had dreams to chase.
Now, for a little while, I get to chase them home.
I find my seat—52K, by the window.
I slide my backpack under the seat and pull my hoodie tighter around me.
The cabin fills up quickly. Families settle in. Flight attendants move like a well-rehearsed dance, closing bins, offering water, smiling under their masks.
I lean my forehead against the cool window.
The tarmac blurs in the late afternoon light.
San Francisco has been good to me, in its rough, relentless way.
But it’s not Hong Kong.
It’s not the place where the air smells like sweet buns and car exhaust.
It’s not the place where streets are so crowded and noisy that even silence feels like a sound.
It’s not the place where my mom will be waiting at Arrivals, holding a Tupperware of homemade siu mai because she knows airport food is never good enough.
It’s not the place where my dad will pretend not to cry when he sees me.
The plane taxis.
The pilot’s voice crackles over the speaker: “Flight time today will be approximately 15 hours and 20 minutes.”
Fifteen hours.
Feels like nothing after a year apart.
The engines roar.
The plane lifts.
The city shrinks below.
I close my eyes.
I dream of dim sum carts clinking down busy restaurant aisles.
I dream of egg tarts still warm from the bakery.
I dream of congee with preserved egg and pork, thick and comforting after a long flight.
I dream of sitting at a tiny table by the harbor, chopsticks in hand, parents on either side, steam rising from the dishes between us.
I miss the food.
I miss the noise.
I miss the language.
I miss the feeling of knowing exactly where I belong.
Hours pass.
I doze.
I wake to the smell of in-flight noodles. Not bad, but not quite right.
I scroll through movies.
I text my mom once when Wi-Fi kicks in over the Atlantic:
“Boarded safe. See you soon.”
She replies with a sticker of a bear holding a heart.
No words. But I know what it means.
Somewhere over the Pacific, I open my phone’s photo gallery.
There’s a screenshot of my final exam grades.
Good enough.
There’s a blurry picture of my dorm room, packed and empty.
There’s a picture of the JFK terminal, taken hastily while running to the gate.
But most importantly, there’s the plane ticket back.
The one that says I get to go home.
When the cabin lights brighten for landing, my heart starts to race.
I can almost smell the roast duck hanging in windows.
I can almost hear the Cantonese announcements blaring over the airport speakers.
The wheels touch down.
The plane bounces once, then settles, gliding toward the gate.
The passengers around me clap softly, a few smiles, a few tears.
I grip the armrest.
I breathe in.
I breathe out.
I’m home.
Final Note: Thank You for Flying with Me
This marks the last story of my Flying Journey blog.
Thank you to everyone who read along, shared these skies, and traveled through these moments with me. It’s been a joy to imagine all these lives in the air, each carrying dreams, memories, and emotions across the clouds.
Fittingly, this final flight story is a personal one. In just two weeks, I’ll be boarding United Airlines Flight UA877—my real flight home after a long year away. I can already imagine the feeling of stepping back into Hong Kong, the familiar streets, and, of course, the incredible food I’ve missed so much.
I can’t wait.
Wishing all of you a wonderful summer ahead—wherever you are, wherever you’re headed. May your journeys be safe, your arrivals joyful, and your hearts full.
Until we meet again in the skies.
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